


Nostalgic dreamers are always disappointed

by Baryshnikov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kisses, Holding Hands, Longing, M/M, Oblivious Harry, Unrequited Love, romantic walks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 18:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baryshnikov/pseuds/Baryshnikov
Summary: Lying on the grass, Draco liked to think of all the things he would love to do with the person he loves





	Nostalgic dreamers are always disappointed

The sky was overcast, and Draco was alone. No one else liked to lie under a grey blanket when the wind held a chill and rain hovered like a shroud over the world. Draco liked it though. He liked to be alone, then he could think without the endless drone of other people’s lives clouding his thoughts. He liked to look up at the sky and dream a thousand impossible dreams that the others would mock him for. He liked to have this one moment to think of all the things that could be if the world was not what it was. 

There were things Draco wanted to do, things, he always said to Pansy, just things. To himself, however, he admitted it was more than just things. He wanted to lie with someone under the grey sky, lie with them and dream of the future. Their hands coming together, fingers fumbling because they were still young and then didn’t know how to be in love. That was what he wanted, just to lie with someone. Wanted to feel the grass tickling his neck as he listened to them talk. He didn’t care what they said, he just wanted to lie beside them, holding their hand, and hear them being energised about something small and irrelevant to the rest of the world, but so very important to them. It was nostalgic and sentimental and soppy, the type of things that the others said they hated, but he knew they all secretly dreamed of. They all wanted their separate dreams to come true, whatever those dreams were. Draco knew as he lay staring at the sky, he wasn’t the only one who had visions of a better world, a happier world where he could be who he wanted to be without his parents looking at him with such disappointment. He shook his head, he did not want to think of them, not in these private moments. This was his time when he could be alone with no one but himself. These were the moments for him to think of what he would like his life to be if the world was not what it was. 

There were so many romantic things he wanted to do with that someone. Walk in the woods under the trees when the sun was setting, and the ailing light painted every leaf with hues of gold. Wanted to walk along a gilded path, the earth quietening their footsteps so that they were silent in nature, just two people walking on a vision. He could almost see that someone beside him: a nameless presence with no substance but with an overwhelming poise. It was terribly romantic to want to walk in the forests and hold hands as they leaned over bridges and stared at the river. Watching the silt infused water smattered with gold, throwing sticks like children and laughing as if it were a more innocent time, and they were more innocent people. Draco believed in love. Believed in finding that person who made you feel like you could do anything with them beside you. The one who made you feel like every moment was a beginning and not an end. The one that made even the darkest days be bathed in that blissful light again. There was someone for everyone, that someone who would hold your heart so close to theirs, or so Draco liked to think, and perhaps that could be true if the world was not what it was. 

He wanted to sit by the lake, talking forever about the world. He could almost feel how cold the water was as they dipped their toes in, and how they would laugh as they pulled their feet out again. They would dare each other to go further until both of them were standing up to their knees, shivering and smiling. Wet hands holding each other like it was the end of the world and they were the last two survivors of an apocalypse. He could imagine that shadowy someone splashing them, and him splashing back, always with a smile. They would jostle and scuffle until they were both plunged into the water. He could almost see their face as they both sat soaked through looking at each other: wet hair hanging in their eyes, fingers red with cold, vision clouded by the rainbows of water stuck to their lashes. They would help each other up and lie on the damp sand staring at the sun and knowing was true happiness felt like. At that moment, they would have found a temporary nirvana, and they would embrace it until the moment dissolved back into their dreams. Draco liked that dream, and perhaps it could have been real if the world was not what it was. 

Draco wanted to kiss someone while lying in the grass and walking in the woods and sitting by the lake. Just lying side by side, the grass damp beneath them, them leaning over and touching his face. Their eyes asking questions they’re too scared to say with their mouth. He imagines nodding to their unspoken request and feeling their lips pressing against his own. So soft and gentle and awkward, like kissing should be when you’re young. He could image their teeth clashing and the nervous laughter that follows, embarrassment at their own clumsiness, but it won’t stop them kissing. Just lying in the grass learning what other people’s mouths taste like. Lying there with the chill on their necks and their hands so cold, smiling, touching each other’s faces with their fingertips. Learning the curve of their lips and the softness of their jaw. He wanted to stare into the eyes and find the answers to all the questions in the world. He just wanted to be young and in love. But that couldn’t happen until the world was not what it was

That was the problem though. He was young, and he was in love. They just didn’t love him back. Draco had always known in his heart who that mythical someone was, the one who he wanted to spend his summer days with was right in front of him and always had been. Harry Potter, who would never see how Draco looked at him, never hear his longing because Draco couldn’t bear to say it aloud. Perhaps it was a blessing, it meant he could watch Harry from across the room, watch how the light fell on his face and illuminated every wonder. Watch how he talked and how he laughed, see when he was unhappy, and his face fell. Draco liked to watch and imagine what it would be like to sit and talk for hours, to talk until the sky was dark and the corridors were quiet. He wanted to kiss those lips and discover whether he liked the taste of love on his tongue. He didn’t know what it was about Harry, but there was something so nice, something soft and warm and safe; the complete opposite of what he himself was, but that was the magic he supposed. Pansy had told him to get over it, they all had. They told him that someone new would come along soon, but that someone hadn’t come yet. So, he resigned himself to dreaming of holding hands with the chosen one and wishing the world was not what it was.


End file.
